My Everlasting Companion
by A Catholic Girl
Summary: As the leaves fell, and the snow melted, and the heat roared, they always had each other throughout the seasons. Written in response to the Seasons Challenge.
1. Winter 1998: Death

**This is my response fourshot to the Seasons Challenge over at HPFC. This entire story is based around Ron/Hermione, as a couple. I'm still waiting for a response on whether I can do the seasons in order, but yet set each in a different year. This is meant to be short, and it isn't really my normal writing style, but I am proud of it!**

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Winter 1998: Death

It's the first Christmas after the war, and she's crying. She is kneeling beside her bed, the bed in Ginny's bedroom that she came to know so well over summer holidays at the Burrow. She is eighteen years old, and should be out celebrating Christ's birth and embracing the approaching New Year.

But, alas, she has seen friends be tortured, and past companions injured. Fred is gone. Lupin and Tonks have perished. Little and upbeat Colin has died.

For once, the causalities that she always pored over in _The Daily Prophet _are not occurring to strangers, souls she never encountered. They occurred to figures of her life, some important, some minor. The shock of it has been gnawing at her soul for six months now.

As the fluffy and different snowflakes waft their way to the ground outdoors, the bedroom door opens, and he enters, but not before he tentatively pauses at the doorway. Should he really disturb her? She is weeping, and normally, she would try to hide her tears or stubbornly deny them.

He decides to step forward, and calls out her name as simply as possible. "Hermione?" And yet, the way he says her name is full of love, care, and question. The way he says her name is a way of asking if she will allow him into her soul.

Her eyes rise from the bed sheets, and the two watery pupils seem to light up at the sight of him. She is still in her bed coat, her nose is running, and her bushy brown hair is as flyaway as he's ever seen it. She discards the handkerchief she has been pressing to her splotchy nose, but first dries her tears on the cloth before leaving it on the bed.

She walks up to him, taking in his tomato-red hair against his pale, almost pure white, skin. His face holds a questioning and nearly anxious look, as he awaits her answer. He reminds her of a ghost, merely a figment of light and color.

Her previously pale face now has color flushing into it, and her cheeks are rosy-red. Seeing him after her sob fest was like a hot, roaring fire after a cold afternoon of childish play in the snow, when you build snowmen and jump over puddles.

A smile is playing across her face, and she replies to him, "Yes, Ron?"

He grins, for she has already answered his question by her tone of voice. Her voice was lifted and jovial when she said his name. She has told him that she will allow him into her life and soul, for things just seem warm and bubbly when she is with him.

His ghostly appearance now has life in it, and he no longer resembles the snow outdoors.

For a moment, the coldness of death sheds, and the sun seems to shine as she reaches out and kisses him, just as he wraps his arms around her lovingly.

The winter of death has gone.

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**Reviews are the only payment of a fanfic author. I love recieving honest feedback and critique. Leave a review if you can! Next chapter up should be Spring!**


	2. Spring 2003: Unity

Spring 2003: Unity

He is standing at the altar, tugging at the itchy collar of his dress robes. His mother had allowed him to magically change the putrid orange color of his robes to a sky blue shade instead. He had persuaded his mother into passing the opportunity of a marquee for the wedding. "A simple wedding altar will do," he told his mum repeatedly.

He has never been one for festivities. All he needs to make this day a truly memorable one is his friends, family, Mum's food, and his bride. His _bride, _his _wife – _no matter how he sees the term, it sounds strange and unfamiliar. He was used to calling her his friend, and later, his girlfriend. Saying wife or bride seemed to make the light spring heat absorb even more through his clothes. The fact that he would have a wife by the end of the day caused him to feel…_old. _

He shouldn't think about the feelings fleeting through his head – he should not complain. The sun is shining welcomingly, and the wedding is being held outdoors, like many Weasley weddings before theirs. But this wedding is quite different from the rest – two members of the Golden Trio are marrying, and the press is determined to be able to watch. He sees reporters huddling together far out in the field, for Security Charms have been placed around the Burrow, to keep away the press.

He feels like yelling out to the people who are making such a fuss, _stop it! It's a wedding! Let us celebrate in peace! _They don't know that he only wants this day of unity to be peaceful, quiet, and simply wonderful.

The crowd is murmuring, "Where is she? When is she coming?"

On the altar, he maintains a calm and unhurried face, keeping his eyes fixated on the lake in the distance. As he watches the sun cause the water to shine, he bites his lip, and wonders if she has decided to call off the wedding. If she has, he will never escape the clutches of his numerous relatives alive.

But just then, the wedding march strikes up from an invisible band, and heads snap to behind the several pews. There is a rustle of the greenery at the back of the wedding area as Ginny appears at the stretching purple carpet. She is maid of honor, and as she walks up the aisle, smiling at friends and family members, Ron thinks about how much his sister has bloomed in beauty. She is no longer a little girl.

Then, the sounds of music grow louder, and his bride begins walking up the aisle on her father's arm. There are white mayflowers in her bushy hair, and she is wearing a long, flowing gown of the same color. Through her tears, she smiles, and finally reaches the altar, kissing her father before he gives her away.

The hour-long wedding seems to stretch out, but finally, the minister says, "Do you, Ronald Billius, take Hermione Jean…?"

He nods, and replies, "I do."

"And do you, Hermione Jean, take Ronald Billius…" the ancient minister's voice trails off, and Hermione eagerly interrupts him.

"I do!"

"You may kiss the bride…"

Their lips have already met. Ron's face grows wet by Hermione's tears, but he doesn't care. They are now united for life, and can begin a proper and normal household together.

The spring of unity has just begun.

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	3. Summer 2006: Time

**This one is a tad shorter, and unexplanatory, but I like how it turned out!**

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Summer 2006: Time

She is caressing her stomach's bulge apprehensively as she consumes the nursery's appearance. "We don't know the gender yet, but we ought to at _least _start on some of the wall painting – should we pick a neutral color instead of pink or blue? Perhaps yellow or a light green?"

He is lounging in the redwood rocker his mother-in-law sent to them for the new baby. The heat is scorching today, and sweat beads shine on his forehead. "Hermione, the baby isn't due for another three months – we have plenty of time to paint the room after it's here."

"You don't seem to understand the amount of attention a newborn baby needs, Ronald," she is scowling at him, arms crossed. "It needs to be burped and fed and changed and bathed…" She presses a finger to her chin as she observes one of the room's corners. "A bright, smiling sun would be lovely here..."

He smirks, a joke crawling up his sleeve. "I say we hire a nanny."

"_Ron_!" A ghost of a smile is evident across her face, but she playfully smacks his shoulder. "You'll appreciate spending all that time with your child once it arrives. I'm sure your mother once said to you how it seems that children grow so quickly."

"Yeah, of course," Ron rises from the rocking chair, to wrap his arm around his wife. "I also heard from her that once the baby's here, it doesn't matter if its nursery is done or not. What's important is that your kid's here, and you need to bring your attention towards them, not its bedroom."

Hermione peers back at him hesitantly, and then looks around the nursery once more. Then she walks toward the several paint cans that lie in the center of the room, yanks out her wand, and curves it rapidly, for the cans to disappear into thin air. Ron grins, knowing that he touched her soft spot.

"You're right," Hermione returns to his side, slipping her hand in his. "We have all the time in the world to paint this room."

They kiss, and as they break away, Ron speaks, "I say we hire a painter!"

He receives a smack from a laughing Hermione, who is ready to only watch the time of her child's growth.

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	4. Autumn 2006: Birth

Autumn 2006: Birth

Ron is making his way through the brown and yellow fall leaves, returning home from a long day of assisting George at the joke shop. The chilliness is biting his nose, and the wind is practically pushing his cheeks backwards. Somewhere amongst the trees, chirping birds welcome Ron home as he approaches.

As his cozy little cottage appears in viewing, Ron debates with himself on how to spend the evening – a fireside dinner with Hermione, or an early evening stroll with Hermione?

While fumbling with the gate at the edge of the cottage's front yard, Ron doesn't hear the front door swinging open, and doesn't see Harry rushing out of the house to him.

"Harry?" Ron's eyes jerk back upward at his best mate. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Hermione – she went into labor an hour ago, and Flooed us over when she couldn't reach you…"

Ron is already pushing past Harry, entering the house and quickly abandoning his briefcase. Harry comes in after him, and Ron shouts back at him, "Is Ginny with her?"

"Yeah, and we left James and Al with Neville and Hannah –"

Ron is not listening. He hurries upstairs, bursting into the bedroom. Hermione is in bed, sweating, and breathing heavily. Ginny, dabbing Hermione's forehead with wet cloths, gives her brother a three-second glance before turning back to Hermione. "She's coming near her final contraction…"

Ron freezes – he has temporarily forgotten what contraction means. "That's good…right?"

"It means the bloody baby is coming, Ronald!" Hermione blares at him, her face red with perspiration.

"Got it!" Ron nods and sits down next to Hermione on the bed. "What can I do to help?"

Ginny smiles as she flips back the covers at the end of the bed – a sign that the birth is coming closer and closer. "Just stay here and wait for a miracle."

An hour later, an unfamiliar body rests in Hermione's arms, and this body's parents stare at her in astonishment. Ron and Hermione have not yet gotten over the fact that this soul was not here this morning, but is living and breathing now.

They had witnessed a miracle – a miracle of birth.

_Rose Elaine Weasley – Born October 7th, 2006 _

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**This was techinally the last chapter, and a bit AU, I guess, as Rose is born in the fall and wouldn't turn eleven by September 2017, when she is seen going off to school...but the way I planned out this story caused me to do that.**

**I'd love for some feedback! If I find some time, I might continue this with other years...but please review!**


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